


repeatable results

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roughness, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brainstorm was used to being told to shut up, but this was a rare time he was inclined to obey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	repeatable results

**Author's Note:**

> Uh. I don't really have an excuse for myself. I wanted Brainceptor smut to cheer myself up so have some badly edited fic to that effect \o/

By the time Perceptor had him pressed against the wall, Brainstorm was suitably flustered to have given up on his normal snark, after getting all tangled around on his words when Perceptor had started teasing his wings almost nonchalantly. Now those wings trembled between them as Perceptor pushed him further into the wall, the line of heat from his frame felt burning into his back.

Primus help him, Perceptor was so hot -- venting against his audios, growling filthy words into them, making him shiver again. It didn’t even matter what Perceptor was saying, not when his voice was pitched to a tone that felt like it hummed through every armor plate on his frame.

Brainstorm gasped against the wall; his mask had been one of the first things to go. Already, he burned for another kiss, but he got a firm “ _Shhh…_ ” when he tried to speak Perceptor’s name.

Brainstorm was used to being told to shut up, but this was a rare time he was inclined to obey.

Perceptor had him good and pinned, and it was something of a thrill just to struggle and feel him shift effortlessly, keeping just enough leverage to have Brainstorm helpless. Lately, he'd been good at getting Brainstorm all riled up over things the jet had never considered being turned on by. This had him twirling his turbines, feeling his interface equipment twinge as he waited.

It burned even more with desire when he felt Perceptor's hand slipping down his frame, tracing over the lines of his waist and to the angle of his hip, playing with the skirting panels. Brainstorm let out a soft moan, and again he heard a shushing noise from Perceptor.

Oh, so that was the game, was it? He could do that. Did Perceptor think he couldn't?

But then he chuckled at that thought, and Perceptor rumbled his engine sharply. "Have you ever been silent in your entire existence?" he hissed into Brainstorm's audio. 

Brainstorm squirmed in frustration, feeling Perceptor's fingers teasing just at the seam of his valve panel. He huffed from his vents, annoyed but stubborn, biting his lower lip to keep from saying anything. Unfair, wasn't it, to talk to him when he was now supposed to refrain from any sound? 

But if Perceptor thought he couldn't this time, that was even more motivation to succeed. Perceptor hummed, tracing his fingertips around the edges of his panel, making Brainstorm shiver all over again as he was pressed further against the wall. 

Frag.

"Mm, good." Brainstorm had the distinct impression that Perceptor was smiling, but at this angle he couldn't see -- but then of course he couldn't. Perceptor wouldn't let him see that, at least not while they were like this. Brainstorm bit his lower lip again, optics half shuttered, his focus on the unseen feeling of Perceptor running his fingertips lightly over his panels. 

Brainstorm swallowed, gaze unfocused, vents panting, and willing his vocalizer silent of even the slightest whimper as Perceptor groped between his legs.

"And they say you're too stubborn to learn," Perceptor murmured against his audio. The jet let out a shuddering sigh; this teasing was going to be the death of him, he felt! How on Cybertron was anyone expected to endure this?

Before he could ponder the possible rewards -- or punishments -- Perceptor firmed up his touches. Good. At least he wasn't fragging acting like he'd never touched the jet before! 

He was proving it again by that clever motion of his fingers, dipping into a seam between his leg and pelvic armor and finding the catch that opened his panels with an embarrassingly audible sound. His spike was as trapped between him and the wall as his wings were between his frame and Perceptor's -- but Perceptor, of course, ignored his preference anyway and started teasing his valve.

Perceptor kept saying learning patience would build his character, but he was positive that was an excuse. He just like seeing Brainstorm squirm. It wasn't that Brainstorm disliked interfacing with his valve. Or that Perceptor didn't know how to treat his valve, because Primus did he ever. But some mechs had a preference, that was all! 

All of these thoughts -- all of his noisiness turned internal, he supposed, with a twist of his lips -- cut off in a hot gasp when Perceptor's light touches around the lips and folds of his valve suddenly turned to two fingers pushing inside the slick entrance.

Perceptor rumbled his engine in warning, making Brainstorm grit his jaw and shutter his optics. Primus fragging help him.

Now it was harder than ever, with Perceptor's fingers working into him in that steady rhythm. Brainstorm's intakes came in swift gasps, heavy, but apparently not too noisy for Perceptor. Well, lucky him. Brainstorm shivered, arching against the wall as Perceptor's fingers thrust into him, spreading to run over every charged node in his valve they could reach. Brainstorm practically clawed at the wall, trying to do _something_ in order to keep from making any little sound of pleasure or frustration.

That was ridiculously hard. Perceptor knew just how to touch him, and if Brainstorm didn't know any better, he'd think the mech pressing him tighter against the wall was purposeful -- to make sure his spike ground against it. 

Sometimes he thought Perceptor was positively evil. But then, he wasn't unaffected, either. Brainstorm could feel the burning heat from Perceptor’s own frame, the desire thick in his field, the deep draw of his intakes as he panted lightly against Brainstorm's helm. 

It was unfair how hot _that_ was, too. Though if he were allowed to talk, he'd be teasing Perceptor mercilessly for it. But it wasn't like Brainstorm didn't know that that was why Perceptor played these keep-quiet games. He always liked to keep the veneer, to be cold and in control -- for as long as he could, anyway. That too, was stupidly, incredibly hot. But it was even more fun to see Perceptor finally drop it.

Either way, he was helpless to Perceptor's whims.

Brainstorm shuddered as Perceptor continued to press into him, a third digit joining them, until all of Brainstorm's plating was trembling, at Perceptor's touch and the grind of their frames pushing him into the wall. 

"Scrap," he cursed. Oh, he couldn't help it! 

As expected, Perceptor withdrew his touch, sliding his fingers away from Brainstorm's soaked valve. Brainstorm grunted, frustrated, unfulfilled now even in that way. But he heard a little chuckle from Perceptor and peered his optics open again. Somehow, he had missed the mech opening his own panels, but now he was aware that he could feel the heat of Perceptor's own spike behind him. "Hush now," he murmured. "I forgive you.... this once."

Before Brainstorm could process that, he felt both of Perceptor's hands on his hips, angling them a little... and then Perceptor thrust into him in one swift movement. Brainstorm cried out; his embarrassingly wet valve offered little resistence to the mech's spike, and damned if he didn't assume Perceptor could 'forgive' him that little noise, too! 

Apparently Perceptor's response to that was to lift a hand -- the one covered in lubricants -- to Brainstorm's lips, pushing gently at where they were gently parted. Finally getting his optics to focus again, Brainstorm opened his mouth, giving him that much more permission to push those fingers into his mouth and fill Brainstorm's glossa with the taste of his own valve.

As Brainstorm settled, Perceptor began to move his hips, grinding against Brainstorm's aft for the most part as the mech huffed and groaned around his fingers. But Perceptor didn't stop -- either he was too needy himself, or he decided to be a bit more lenient now that he was buried deep in Brainstorm's hot, squeezing valve.

Just as Brainstorm was about to burn with impatience and need again, Perceptor braced him once more, pulling his hips back and slamming home. Brainstorm gasped around the mech's fingers, his field spinning out with the pleasure that suffused him. And just like that, Perceptor thrust into him at that hard, quick pace. 

Any shred of control left Brainstorm as he whined around Perceptor's fingers, arching into the wall and clutching at it with his trembling fingers, his wings flexing and shivering. 

Perceptor was relentless in his pace, grunting softly in Brainstorm's audio as he kept it up. And just as he thought he couldn't get any more wrapped up this, or process any more feelings, he felt Perceptor adjust them again -- just slightly -- and his free hand wrapped around Brainstorm's spike.

His optics flared, his backstruts arching again, and he let out a truly embarrassing whimper of a sound as Perceptor began stroking his spike in the same rhythm as his pounding into Brainstorm’s valve.

Thought was a foreign concept as Perceptor worked him over this way. Pleasure rushed through his audios, burning in his lines and making him desperate. He was more or less unable to move his hips, so Brainstorm could only take what Perceptor was giving him, his vents stuttering, until overload burned bright through his systems, whiting out his vision for a solid moment. 

Brainstorm had actually bitten down on Perceptor's fingers when his peak hit; he worked his jaw open again, but it was easy as his frame was going slack between Perceptor and the wall. The other mech slipped his fingers out of his mouth, flexing them. "Mm, that actually stung," he murmured.

"Sorry," Brainstorm muttered, still dazed. 

"Don't worry," he murmured, and Brainstorm could again hear the smile that he only ever seemed to hear. The jet seemed to be aware, suddenly, that Perceptor hadn't overloaded. He was pressed inside Brainstorm still, a fine tremble in his frame as he kept Brainstorm pressed to the wall. "I'm not finished yet." He gave a roll of his hips into Brainstorm's fluttering, sensitive valve, making the jet gasp again.

And yet Perceptor paused a moment, until Brainstorm finally tilted his helm some more, getting the barest glimpse of him. "Do your worst," he murmured.

That seemed to be what Perceptor was waiting on. Bracing him again, he started rocking into Brainstorm's valve again, at a slow, smooth pace this time. Surely it wouldn't have taken long for Perceptor to reach his own release, but at this pace...

Then he felt Perceptor's hands move again. One arm wrapped around his torso, while the other slipped away from his sensitive spike and very gently circled Brainstorm's anterior node. Brainstorm gasped almost pitifully. But Perceptor's touches were gentle, pushing the edge of that pleasure/pain enough, but not uncomfortably so. That would be left for another time, he knew -- something a little less spontaneous.

As if spontaneity was an issue. But it was hard to think again, a soft whine slipping from his vocalizer as Perceptor so easily and so carefully worked charge back into his frame again. He was panting, optics faraway, his hips rocking in tandem with Perceptor's movements. 

In no time at all, he was on the edge of overload again, and he could feel how Perceptor's tight reigns of control were crumbling. Brainstorm let out a shaky laugh. "C-C'mon, then," he gasped. "What'd I say before?"

Perceptor hummed. "I thought you were supposed to be quiet." He punctuated this with a harder thrust that made Brainstorm gasp and squirm.

"Can't fight nature," he remarked. He grinned sloppily when that earned a brief chuckle from Perceptor.

"I suppose not," the red mech said ruefully. He started up again -- harder, deeper, but not exactly faster. But it got their charges spinning higher, practically choking on it in their fields when, finally, they both reached overload again -- together this time.

Brainstorm was well and truly weak against the wall by this point, feeling hot and hazy, and altogether satisfied. Even when Perceptor pulled away and Brainstorm could feel lubricant and transfluid seeping from his valve and down his thighs. 

Perceptor seemed to sense this and kept his hands on Brainstorm's frame, supporting him. Though he finally seemed to give up on what to do with him and hauled them both into a chair, Brainstorm's long limbs sprawled out as he picked his helm up. 

Seeing Perceptor with his joints loose and his lips parted slightly with the panting of his vents was a very, very agreeable sight, and he grinned as his wings fluttered.

Perceptor snorted. "Congratulations," he said. "You managed to stay quiet for 4.035 minutes longer than your average attempts." 

Brainstorm rolled his optics. "Thanks, that's exactly the data I wanted," he remarked.

Perceptor just smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
